


A Moment's Rest

by lacedwithlilacs



Series: Avery Hawke [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Children, Gen, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8679319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacedwithlilacs/pseuds/lacedwithlilacs
Summary: Avery Hawke and Varric wait at the Herald's Rest after returning from Adamant while waiting for the rest of Hawke's family to arrive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by mermaidhanji!

The Herald’s Rest is warm, the heat from the fire in the large hearth downstairs wafts upwards. Hawke and Varric sit at a table in the corner, where the cold of the Frostbacks drifts in from the window pane. Maryden and the other tavern goers are hushed up here; the clearest noise is Sera and Trevelyan laughing together in Sera’s room, the door shut tight. Hawke doesn’t want to know if it’s to keep the heat in Sera’s sun warmed room, or for other reasons. The Herald’s Rest is certainly no Hanged Man, but it’s good enough considering the circumstances.

Hawke sits in comfortable silence, listening to Varric tell all of the wild stories about the Inquisitor. She wonders if this was what the Hanged Man was like when she wasn’t there, Varric spinning stories about the hero of the day like they were threads hanging from the ceiling. After the past few weeks—the Western Approach, Adamant, coming back to Skyhold—Hawke is thankful to just sit and do nothing. In Varric’s words, she’s getting too old for this shit. Still, she has to prepare for her trip to Weisshaupt before she can return to her tiny, 2-room home in the Anderfels.

At least this time, she’ll have company back. Unlike almost every other time she’s been traveling in the past month or so, moving through lands alone with maybe the exception of Stroud, who was never extremely friendly with her. Thinking of him, thinking back on the sacrifice he made so that Hawke and the rest of the world could live, she’s thankful. Retrospectively, she’s extra thankful that she trusted Carver to _him_ and not someone else.

“How’s the nugget?” Varric asks. He probably finished telling his story a few minutes ago, letting Hawke just take a breather.

Hawke circles the lip of her cup with her index finger, “She’s fine, should be here within the next hour or so with Anders. Anders told me in his letter that she was most excited to see Uncle Varric again.”

Varric lets out a chuckle, “I do seem to have that effect on beautiful girls.” Hawke smiles in return. “She’s going to be 5 soon, right?”

“In a little under two months,” Hawke supplies; _hopefully before we get home again,_ she muses to herself. They’re staying here in Skyhold for the next week or two, mostly because the Inquisitor has offered Hawke and her family a room here that’s leagues nicer than their meager home in the Anderfels. While they’re here, she doesn’t have to worry about relocating again, even though it’s been nearly a year since they’ve had to gather everything and leave in the middle of the night again.

Downstairs, the door hinges creak loudly as a gust of cold Fereldan wind bursts in. The patrons downstairs rumble unhappily among themselves before the door shuts again. “If I have any guess, that’s probably them.” There are loud steps, small feet in unfamiliar boots, running around downstairs, stopping at every table to survey the guests.

They both hear Anders’ frustrated voice calling to her, probably brushing snow off of her hood and trying to get her to stand still for more than half a second. Together they climb the stairs, and when Emma sees Hawke, she runs full force. “Mama!” Emma buries her face in Hawke’s pants, cheeks still rosy from the cold mountain air and the slightest dusting of snow on her hood still. Clearly Anders was not able to get it all off before Emma had taken off again. “Mama, it’s cold here.” This is Emma’s first trip to Ferelden, stupidly as the weather turns colder, the complete opposite of the scorching Anderfels heat.

While Emma tries to shoo the cold away with Hawke’s warmth, Anders leans in and gives Hawke a chaste, polite kiss on the cheek. Varric clears his throat, “How’s it going Blondie?” They shake each other’s hands, another polite motion.

“Alright I suppose; as best it can be traveling halfway across the world with a 4-year-old.”

Emma looks up from Hawke at her father, “4 and a half!”

Hawke grabs Emma and sets her in her lap, “Emma, you remember Uncle Varric, right?” It’s been almost 2 years since Varric visited, and she’s not sure if Emma really can remember him or not.

Emma turns, shy all of a sudden, grabbing at Hawke’s shirt this time and hiding half of her face. “A little.” Anders produces the small stuffed nug toy from his pack, and Hawke can only imagine Emma stuffing it in at home, refusing to leave without it. He places it on the table and Emma grabs at it, cuddling it close to her chest. “Uncle Varric gave me.”

Varric laughs at the toy, “I sure did, kid. Glad to see you still like it.” It’s got a few more stains on it than when he’d given it to her for Satinalia, but it resembles the same basic shape. Emma pushes her hood off of her head, having finally adjusted to the warmth of the tavern. Her brown hair is twisted into two long braids, running down over her shoulders. They’re both haphazard, and Hawke honestly can’t tell if Emma or Anders did them this morning. Varric smiles at Emma, causing her to hide her face behind the stuffed nug this time. “Damn Hawke, she’s really starting to look like you.”

“Aside from the hair and the nose. This curly hair is definitely not from my side of the family.” She twirls the tip of one of Emma’s braids in between her fingers. Anders opens his mouth to protest when Sera’s big door opens, and Hawke looks up to see Trevelyan in front of them with a too-big smile. The Inquisitor quickly composes herself again after the door shuts, reassumes the role she’s been assigned as she starts walking towards the stairs.

Trevelyan spots Emma and then Anders, immediately putting the pieces together. She’d been told of everything prior, but still, her breath hitches when she sees him. He’s a legend, standing in front of her, the reason that everything happened the way it did. Hawke hasn’t had any opportunity to talk at length with the girl, but she at least isn’t worried about the Inquisitor setting Anders on fire in the Rest. “You must be Anders,” she says with a formal nod of her head before turning to Emma, “and you are Hawke’s little girl, yes?”

Emma nods, retreating even further into her mother’s chest as Anders returns the nod. “And you’re the Inquisitor everyone’s been talking about, right? The Herald of Andraste?” Hawke sees the slight tightening of the jaw at the title; what little she does know from Trevelyan is that she is not a fan of the name. Almost the same feeling that Hawke has about her own title as Champion.

“A pleasure,” Trevelyan says curtly, “I hope you and your family are comfortable here in the meantime. Let me know if you need anything.” Hawke can see the Inquisitor going through the motions, the way that Josephine has trained Trevelyan to say these same words to every single figure to walk through the gates of Skyhold.

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Anders says gratefully, though he sounds incredibly tired, more so than he has been recently.

Trevelyan smiles at him and Emma before she turns to leave. “Anything for family.”

As she leaves, Anders turns to Hawke, an eyebrow raised in question. “Apparently, I’m related to half of the Free Marches.” Anders sighs. “She’s a third cousin, apparently.” Hawke grabs her glass, taking another sip. The tea is still a bit warm on her throat despite it cooling all too quickly. After she swallows, she glances down at her cup. It’s big for tea, hopefully enough to not raise any suspicion, but still she panics. If Anders sees that she’s not drinking ale, she’ll have to start explaining, and quickly. “You and Emma are probably tired, do you want me to show you our room? It’s really nice.” In her lap, she sees Emma’s head falling forward and snapping back awake. “Seems like she could use a nap anyways.”

She gathers Emma up, balancing her on her hip and purposely pushing the big cup of tea away from her side of the table. Anders seems a little surprised at the suddenness, but follows her anyways, probably spurred on by his own desire to rest a bit after the journey. Varric looks at the cup in the middle of the table, back at Hawke again, and sighs as he collects the pack Anders had set down at the foot of the table. He knows; or at least, Hawke is pretty sure he knows. It had been part of the reason she’d declined traveling with the Inquisitor anyways.

They walk towards the stairs in another comfortable silence. Maryden’s singing fills the air, and the steady hum of soldiers talking around a table of drinks grows louder as they move towards the main floor of the tavern. “So Varric,” Anders says as they exit the tavern, all of them wrapping their furs tighter around themselves, “I expect to hear all the stories later. Tell me all the stuff that Hawke won’t.”

Hawke turns to look behind her at the men, glaring at both of them as Emma officially succumbs to sleep. She knows Varric will tell Anders the good stuff, the _Fade stuff,_ and that she’s going to be in so much trouble. She’d ran through the streets of Kirkwall, fighting half of the city, all because of him, carrying Emma inside of her. Now, Varric will tell him about her fighting demons, crazed Wardens, and traipsing through the Fade with another one on the way. _Anders is going to be **so**  mad at me._


End file.
